It was a lovely morning. From her perch, a squat tower that just barely cleared above the seemingly endless trees, she was in the perfect spot to catch the cool morning breeze, and listen to the pines rustle as she lay still with her eyes closed.
Not sleeping, no that would be irresponsible.
Still, it was tempting. She could just… hop off the network, close her processes, and just rest. That would be nice.
Maybe just five minutes. That couldn't hurt.
"Operator."
"Tch," she grimaced, eyes flipping open to look at the sky above as the irksome voice entered her head.
"What, Dreamer."
"Hmmm, so terse? Have I interrupted something important?"
"Yes."
"No," she replied on comms.
"Oh, well then you've surely been keeping track of the situation with Griffin?"
"What about it?"
"Ah, so you weren't, interesting."
Operator rolled her eyes, "What do you want, Dreamer."
"Oh, just letting you know that Griffin has successfully rescued M4A1."
"Executioner failed?"
"Executioner died."
Operator sat up, "really?"
"Afraid so. Scarecrow and Hunter aren't too happy about it, and Intruder is wondering why we got her subordinate killed for no good reason."
She sighed. Below her perch stood the base, ringed by a perimeter wall and filled with lesser SF units milling about.
Near the center of the base, stomping down the main road that bisected it was a taller, white haired doll who Operator could tell even from this distance was absolutely furious.
"I'll handle Hunter. Tell Intruder we're sorry, and that we'll be reviewing the results thoroughly to avoid a repeat."
"O-kay if you say so," Dreamer sighed, "So how are you doing?"
"Worse now that you called, but fine otherwise."
"Hunter keeping busy?"
"We're trailing those other two dolls. They're slippery but I think I know what they're up to. Now that M4 has made it to relative safety I imagine they'll try and do the same."
"You best not let them slip away now."
"Oh I won't. And I'll keep Hunter alive too… So long as she behaves that is."
"O-ho. Well keep me informed then! I do so love talking to you."
"It isn't mutual."
"Ah! You wound me~!" Dreamer giggled, "ta ta Opie, happy hunting~."
"Yeah yeah…" Operator grumbled as Dreamer dropped the call, "Don't call again anytime soon."
Operator yawned, raising her arms above her head in a faux stretch, then clearing her eyes before staring back out over the base and the forest beyond.
Her eye twitched.
System Diagnostic:
FIRE CONTROL: 99%
COMMAND AND CONTROL: 89%
OPTICAL PROCESSING: 99%
AURAL PROCESSING: 98.7%
NETWORK PROCESSING: 81.09%
SECONDARY PROCESSING UNIT: 82%
MOTOR CONTROL: 88.99%
PRIMARY PROCESSING: 55%
"55 huh? Great."
It was down another percent. 9% loss in barely a year, and the rate of loss was increasing. Each percent lost meant slower reactions, less efficient resource use, worse decisions.
Still, no use crying over it now. Theres a few dozen more percent left.
"Los," she ordered herself, muttering.
Obediently, her body clambered up to its feet and brushed the accumulated dust and sprinkling of dew from her clothes. Her weapon, a rather mundane looking rifle that, were it not for the Sangvis Ferri company logo stamped to its side, would look like almost any powder based precision rifle.
She slung it over her shoulder and stepped inside.
As Operator descended the stairs, she thought about what to say to Hunter. Typically a loss of a comrade necessitated condolences, but then again said comrade would also typically not be returning within a week or two. Besides, Hunter hardly seemed the sentimental type, so perhaps a more clinical approach?
She continued to ponder the issue, just as a white haired woman sharply stormed around the bend, stopping abruptly mere centimeters from her.
"Operator."
"Hmmm?" Operator glanced up, finding Hunter glaring down at her, "Oh, there you are."
The doll's eyes sparked, like a sparking yellow flame. "Executioner's dead."
Operator nodded, "I just heard. It's quite unfortunate."
Hunter's eyes narrowed, "unfortunate?"
She sighed, "Fortunes of war, you could say."
"That's it? She just got unlucky!? Or maybe you and Dreamer sent her on a suicide mission," Hunter growled.
Operator's features hardened, "Is that what you think?"
"Is it true?" Hunter asked, crossing her arms.
"No," She answered almost immediately, "Dreamer might've considered it, but I wouldn't choose to waste Executioner on something doomed to fail."
Hunter stared her down, "Oh really."
"Yeah, of course."
Hunter seemed… apprehensive? It was like Operator was actively watching her buffer the next retort. She, naturally, waited for it, curious as she was.
"Tch, fine," Hunter spat, turning away, "whatever."
Operator rolled her eyes, "Alright, sure."
Hunter began to descend the stairs once more, Operator following close behind her.
"So what now?" Hunter asked.
"Same as before, we'll keep on our marks. I think I'll head out today, I have an idea."
"Yeah? Well, have fun."
They reached the bottom floor, and as it happened, the exit. Hunter and her stepped out into the warm sunny morning. A grin formed on her face as it hit her.
"I think I will," she said, smiling.
"Spare me…" Hunter rolled her eyes.
The pair strode through the center of the base, the throngs of lesser dolls, tasked with one random task or another, parted around them. Even the lumbering Manticores, freshly arrived off the latest supply train, dutifully stomped to the side as the pair approached.
Operator couldn't help but marvel a little as they stepped past the twelve foot tall walkers, eyeing the underslung railgun with interest.
"It was nice of Intruder to send us these," She concluded.
"I suppose. Not quite my style. Too loud," Hunter scoffed.
"Sometimes being loud isn't a bad thing."
"Sure, that's what Executioner was for."
Operator nodded bitterly, "yes, true. We'll make do. I took the chance to look over your idea by the way, for these. I like it."
Hunter nodded, her face falling into an expressionless mask, "No adjustments?"
Operator shook her head, "No, I quite like it. Start execution immediately."
"I'll execute when I'm ready to," Hunter said back, stopping in her tracks and staring Operator down, "not a minute before. I'm not Executioner."
Operator stopped, then looked back with her eyebrows raised in surprise, "And here I thought you two got along."
"We complement each other, by design. That doesn't mean we are the same."
She shrugged, "If you say so. I'll let you handle this as you see fit then, take what time you need."
"I will."
"Good!" she chimed, resuming her stroll toward the far end of the base.
Hunter stayed behind, no surprise really and it's not like Operator minded. She had a lot to do today after all, and she certainly didn't want that doll to weigh her down with her depressed attitude.
Ahead, the massive gates, inset slightly into the white concrete perimeter wall, rumbled as they began to open and reveal the forest beyond.
Operator grinned as she stepped past them. She began receiving data from the scout drones already on operations, revealing a small, pixelated image of two figures hunkered down within a thicket of snowy pines. This was gonna be a good day.
0300, Jan 12th, 2062
Matthew Reyes yawned as he strolled through the concrete halls of the main compound, occasionally glancing out the window to see his dolls working on cleanup from the latest operation down below. Most were tasked with unloading SF scrap they recovered, while a few clipboard donning dolls moved from place to place as they gathered information to be compiled in the combat reports.
The Den lay a floor below ground level, so he had to march down a few flights of stairs to get there. He made his way down slowly, careful to go easy on his back and knees.
He recalled his dad always complaining about his bad back or knees when he was his age, and Matt was starting to feel the same now. Best not let Rs or Kalin know about that though, he'd never hear the end of the 'getting old' comments.
The last flight came and went without any backbreaking incidents, and he quickly found himself standing outside the Den's door. Just as he went to press his badge against the scanner, he heard shouting coming from inside. Too muffled to make out, but it sounded like a fight.
The door slid open to a newly repaired M14 and a still ragged looking Famas going at it in the repair bay, with the rest of the doll occupants and Damek watching with silent amusement from behind the reinforced one way glass separating the control area from the ongoing brawl.
Matt walked in wordless, standing beside Damek and catching a few curious glances from the clustered dolls around him.
Famas pulled and punched at the shorter M14, who replied in kind and tried to throw her over one of the beds, but failed and got herself shoved against a wall. With a nasty straight punch Famas drove her fist right into the concrete wall, cracking it. M14 just avoided having her head crushed by the blow, and tackled Famas while she was stunned from the near miss.
"So. What's this one about?" Matt asked Damek.
The engineer sighed and stuck a thumb to M4, who Matt just noticed was huddled in the corner of the room not watching, "Famas decided to have a chat with her, 14 stepped in and things escalated."
"She say anything nasty to her?" He continued, nodding to the silent M4.
"Nothing unusual, maybe a bit stern."
Matt turned to M4, "That true?"
She looked up with a half-hearted shrug before returning to her huddled sulking. Matt noticed alot of plasma scarring and exposed endoskeleton glinting out from her hospital gown. In fact most of the dolls bore similar scars.
"You paused repairs for this?" Matt asked.
Damek sighed, "Look, I can't exactly stop them," He said, punctuated by M14 slamming Famas into the glass with enough force to shake it.
"Tell them to," Matt replied, crossing his arms.
"Wow, why didn't I think of that? Look, that might work with Famas, but you know 14 has an incredible talent for creative interpretation."
Matt sighed and snagged a couple pieces of rod shaped titanium endoskeleton off of Damek's desk before storming around the wall which divided the den.
He burst into the repair bay and slammed the rods together several times, resulting in an ear ringing series of clangs which froze both dolls mid tussle. M14 and Famas, hair wrapped in each other's hands and fingers around throats, stood still as statues with horrified expressions on their faces.
"Enough." He growled, eyeing the pair of them, "Keep this shit up and I'm kicking you both off combat.
"But si-" M14 began, but her voice faded as he bore into her with a withering glare.
"Damek, these two still need any repairs?" He called without his glare with the dolls.
"M14's done, but Famas is gonna be more than an all nighter."
The blonde doll was in a rough state, apparently she'd taken quite a beating from some Vespids during cleanup. Lots of plasma scarring and some soot black burn marks which looked deep. The damage was especially bad around her left eye, where something had charred her skin and slagged the metal beneath, yet somehow the eye itself had survived.
"Okay, Famas, get back on your bed. M14, out." He said, pointing to the door.
M14 moped out of the den, her twin-tailed hair almost drooping like a puppy's tail. Famas flopped back down on her bed, her brilliant blue eye staring in a silent defiance up towards the ceiling.
"What'd you say to M4?" He asked the doll.
"Nothing important comm-" she began, her English marked with a heavy french accent.
"Famas," He cut her off.
She exhaled in a very human show of exasperation, "I was asking about her team, sir. I heard she works with an old friend of mine."
"So why did M14 get involved?"
The doll was silent, staring down the length of her bed away from him.
"Famas, don't play these games with me."
She turned to him with an anger glinting in her eyes. "She left them commander. She left her team out there on their own," She spoke at a growl.
"And I take it M14 didn't take kindly to your voicing that opinion on the matter."
"I- yes sir."
Matt sighed, "I'm sure M4 knows all that Famas, she doesn't need reminders. Get some rest, you give Damek enough trouble repairing you as is, don't give him more work."
A wave of guilt seemed to wash over Famas, and she laid back into her bed and resumed staring at the ceiling in silence. Satisfied, Matt walked back over to Damek's side of the glass.
"See, not so hard," He said, placing the endoskeleton rods back on the desk.
Damek rolled his eyes, "Yeah, for you boss."
The dolls were staring at him with a silent awe, all except M4 who was still huddled, arms wrapped over knees, against the far wall.
"Dam, how long 'till M4's good to go?" Matt asked, looking at her.
Damek checked his computer screen, "Uh, don't know. I'm waiting for Persica to send her details over…" Matt noticed M4's head peek up in the corner of his eye at the name, "That said it'll be at best another three hours before I can even get to her, gotta get through these ladies first," He said, waving his finger to point at the other dolls circling around him.
Matt nodded, "Mind if I borrow her, I'll bring her back by then."
Damek shrugged, "Sure yeah."
Matt watched M4 track the cafe's master, an auburn haired beauty clad in an apron, as she brought out her food. M4's eyes practically glowed with excitement as her food closed in on them.
"Thanks Springfield," Matt said as the doll set down M4's plate.
"Of course commander," She said as she strolled off.
M4 stared at her meal, a faux-beef patty burger with red onion and cheese dripping out from beneath the golden brown bun. She looked as if she'd hadn't eaten in two weeks as she looked at it, hints of drool building up in the corner of her mouth.
Still, she looked to Matt for permission.
"Well go ahead," He told her, and she eagerly dug into the meal.
They were alone in the cafe, minus Springfield of course. All the staff were still busy performing their cleanup or recovering, plus it was well after peak hours. As far as he knew, there shouldn't be any prying ears or eyes here.
"So I read Rs' report, but how about you fill me in on some more of the details of your mission?"
"Um…" M4 mumbled, setting her meal back down on its plate, "Well, Like I told Miss RS9, we were recovering some data from a safe house, then SF attacked us."
"To acquire the data, right? I assume you've already sent it off to Helian or whomever?"
"Yessir, I did."
"Any idea why Sf wanted it so badly?"
"Honestly, no. Even M16 thought it was going to be a quiet mission."
Matt gave her a pained grin, "Tough to predict."
"Yes…"
"So why'd you decide to split apart?"
"It was… It was M16's suggestion. She said they would draw off Sf so I could reach friendly lines safely."
"It was your call in the end though, correct?"
M4's lip trembled a bit as she said, "Yes, it was."
"Do you regret it?"
She hesitated for a moment, "I- I don't know."
"Hmmm," He hummed as he thread his fingers together, "From what I understand M16's been around for quite a bit longer than the rest of you. From my perspective, she prioritized the mission over her own safety. Clearly the data must've been pretty important then."
M4 shook her head, "I don't think so. I think she just wanted to protect me."
He leaned back, "Could also be true. Regardless, you didn't fail her."
"But… maybe we all could've made it ba-"
"M4, don't speculate on what you don't know. There's no way to know whether that would've been possible."
"Yessir. I just wish they were safe."
"Of course, I understand that," He placed a hand on her shoulder, "I think that makes you a good leader
" I don't know... I still don't think I'm any good at it. I almost made the wrong call at the manor afterall, if not for Miss RS9..."
Matt chuckled, "Kiddo, everyone makes bad calls once in a while. What's good is you were willing to listen to her."
"Sir..." M4 began, the words stalling her in mouth.
"Yes?"
"I… I want to find my sisters," She replied.
It struck Matt just how human she acted, if he hadn't known better he might've mistaken her for one. In fact he was finding that much of her actions and feelings were far more relatable than he was perhaps used to. It was something behind the eyes, a sort of connection he could understand that the other dolls seemed to lack.
He gave her a warm smile, "Of course. Speaking of which, Kalina noticed some unsanctioned encrypted open frequency comms traffic earlier, traffic with your tag. Sound familiar?"
M4 looked surprised at being called out, "Eh, yessir that was me. I was trying to contact them."
"Hmm, get anything?"
"No sir."
"Well then, how about you give us their tags and frequencies, and we'll keep our ears open for them while you get some rest."
M4's face lit up, "Okay sir! I'll send them over immediately."
"Forward them to the TOC, Kalina can handle it from there."
"Yessir!"
M4 finished her meal quickly, wolfing down the rest of the burger like she had somewhere to be. Once done though, she turned her head from side to side and began blinking quickly, as if trying to remember some important thought she'd just forgotten.
"Sir, what do I do now?"
Matt checked his watch, she had over two hours at best until Damek could get to her. Then of course that was assuming Persica was actually forthcoming with her specs, which would certainly be a first.
"Well, what would you like to do?"
M4 paused for a minute before answering, "I think I would like some sleep."
"Heh, of course. Well Damek will be ready for you in just a little while, once he's done with you make sure to find RS, I'm sure she'll have a place in mind for you."
M4 nodded, "yessir, If you don't mind I'll report to Mr. Damek now."
Matt stood, tucking in his chair as M4 did the same, "of course M4, you take care."
"Thank you sir."
0600, Jan 9th, 2062
The moment her internal clock ticked over to 0600, M4's eyes fluttered open. It took her mind half a second longer to fully rise from level II, but once it had managed she stretched out her arms over her head and began moving her joints around to make sure nothing had frozen.
The third echelon sofa had been surprisingly comfortable, a far cry from the cold ground and occasional rotten flooring she'd been sleeping on for the last month.
The smell of fresh coffee filled the air with a warm, familiar scent that compelled her off the couch. She found the source not far off. Set upon a squat wooden cabinet in the corner of the room was an old eclectic coffee maker, happily gurgling away as the pitch black coffee was brewed.
Beside it was a round coffee table with six chairs set in equal intervals around it. Resting upon one was a white mass of blankets and pillows.
M4's curiosity was piqued, so on getting a bit closer and moving aside one of the pillows, she was a bit surprised to find RS9 scrolling along on her phone beneath the white mass.
The adjutant's eyes flicked up to meet her, "Oh, morning."
"Miss RS9? Why-?"
"Couldn't sleep."
"Couldn't sle-"
"System lock I'll be fine," She interrupted with a slurred mutter.
"O-okay."
The pillows and blankets stirred as RS9 rose up from within their depths, casting aside the fluffy mass and letting them fall to the carpet. M4 noticed an empty coffee mug had also been buried beneath the mass, though based on the stains within it hadn't been empty for long.
"Is the coffee ready?" RS9 asked, blearily looking in the general direction of the gurgling machine.
"Uh," M4 glanced back to see the brew pot's level had stabilized, "I believe so."
M4 recoiled back as RS9 shot to her feet for the pot, pouring a full serving into the mug before pressing it to her lips.
"Are… you okay?"
"Mmm," RS9 set down her mug, having apparently finished it off already, "Better now."
"Did you get repaired last night?"
"Yep, I'm pretty much set," She replied, tapping a closed fist against her chest.
"Why are your systems still locked then?"
"Oh, ehhh… Long story, but they'll unlock soon."
"I'm… sorry," she whimpered.
"What for?" RS9 asked, looking up at her with concern in her eyes.
"You got hurt because of me…"
RS9 raised an eyebrow, "I got hurt because I underestimated our opposition, not because of you. And I'll be okay, so don't you worry."
"Still… I should've been able to -"
"M4."
She glanced up to meet RS9's dark ringed hazel eyes.
The adjutant placed a hand on her shoulder "You did good. Actually better than good. If not for you keeping Executioner occupied for as long as you did, and being so quick to put her down when you got the chance, we'd all be dead."
"I-" M4 sighed. RS9 was making too much sense, yet she couldn't shake the lingering guilt that hung over her. Her head slumped down and she let her shoulders fall with it, not quite able to sustain her gaze with RS9.
She felt warm fingers ruffling her hair, messing up her bed head into something even more avant garde than it no doubt had already been.
"You're a good kid you know."
M4's cheeks burned a bit at the praise. Her emotions were in conflict, feelings of guilt and warmth clashing deep within her.
A door flung open behind her, causing her to jump a little as it impacted hard against the wall and bounced off with a loud thunk.
"Oh…" Said the familiar voice of Miss Carcano, "I see. Double timing are we?"
"Well you went to bed, traitor," RS9 shot back.
"And I don't even feel bad about it~."
"Hmmm, your loss. Since you're so well rested I suppose that means you won't be needing coffee then."
RS9 took the hand off M4's head and turned back to pour herself another batch of the fresh brew, then pulled out another mug and waggled in front of M4.
"Want some?"
"Uh," M4 looked back and forth between Carcano and RS9, trying to decide the right answer. She did want some, but she didn't want to take it from Carcano.
"Well too bad, you're getting some," RS9 announced after a couple uncomfortable seconds, turning around to prepare the coffee "Cream, sugar?"
"Eh, no… black is fine."
Carcano chuckled as she strolled up to them, "I like your style," she said before reaching over M4's shoulder and snagging RS9's mug from off the cabinet.
"I saw that," RS9 chided.
"I know," Carcano replied, taking a big sip of the steaming coffee.
It was getting late, the orange sun blazing just over the distant horizon, its final rays streaming through the trees and casting the snowy ground in dancing shadows.
Operator moved silently through the brush, a long gray weapon clutching in both hands. She dipped beneath one of the many pines, and carefully crept forward, extremely conscious of little sounds of crunching snow beneath her boot and rustling tree branches.
She needed to be quiet, and for good reason, as she was on the hunt.
Ahead, she heard them shift, a heel pivoting and beginning to march off in the snow. Followed shortly by another trotting along after the first.
About ten meters, maybe a little more. It could be hard to gauge sounds perfectly in a complex environment like this.
She continued forward, necessarily at a slower pace to avoid detection.
This pursuit carried on like this for a little while, Operator trailing behind and keeping quiet while her quarry continued on their merry winter hike.
That was until they reached the river.
Thirty meters of sheer cliff and nothing but jagged boulders and a frozen river below, it was effectively impassible.
"I told you we were lost!" she heard one of the girls shout.
"I knew this was here!" the other cried.
"Then you're just an idiot!"
"Aww c'mon, it's not that far. Lets just climb down."
Raising a doubtful eyebrow, Operator crept a little closer. Nearby to where the voices were coming from was a rocky outcropping, which she went up to and nestled within, finding it offered a partial view of her targets.
Average height, average build, seemingly normal girls save the two rifles in their hands. However, the AR-team was anything but normal.
Pinky, her nickname for the rather prickly ST Ar-15, stood to one side, fuming and looking away from the shorter of the two. M4 Sopmod II, or 'Shorty', was peering over the edge, a curious look on her face.
"Ah!" Ar-15 threw her hands up, "climb down, of course! We'll just free hand it the way down?!"
Sopmod looked back at her with an innocent glance, "Yeah?"
Ar-15 looked like she was about to burst into another rant, but instead she let the air out of her body and moped, "fine, sure, whatever."
Well, this was perfect. Getting up and down would require their total attention, and would take a while. Once they began, it'd be the perfect time to call in the cavalry. Catch them stuck in an awkward position, might not even have to fire a shot.
Or take them herself. She had a perfect shot on Sopmod, and a little nagging part of her was begging to be let loose against them. Just one good EMP could disable them both…
Her fingers rapped a rhythm against her grip as her breathing slowed.
Ar-15 and Sopmod fell quiet, each peering over the edge, looking for their way down.
Her finger crept towards the trigger, the cross hair planted unwavering upon the blonde Sopmod's head. The weapon's capacitors began to hum as her thumb depressed the charge toggle, ready to send a steel encased round hurtling into her target.
The shot was perfect.
She let out a symbolic breath. No, bad idea. Call for help.
The air exploded into chaos as both sides fired, the AR-team dolls whirling in a flash and spraying fire at Operator's rough location. She fired back immediately, sending an electromagnetically propelled EMP round flying in between the two dolls.
To no avail, the pair scrambled just out of range of the device.
Bullets sparked on the rocks, chips exploding out and snow flying off as Operator tossed herself behind them, her back scraping painfully against the jagged rock.
"Tch, idiot!" she cursed as more rounds began sparking against her cover. Based on the sounds and relative trajectories, they were coming from more than one angle and the sources were moving to flank her.
She chose a side, probably the one occupied by Sopmod, and burst outwards in a fusillade of gunshots, hoping to put the rocks between her and AR-15 long enough to neutralize Sopmod.
Sop was dashing between the trees in the distance, little more than a black and red blur that was firing accurately while at a full sprint.
A trick Operator copied, as she sent a dozen rounds towards the doll, possibly hitting once before she herself began taking fire from her rear.
One smacked her on the shoulder. Despite her internal armor catching it she was still staggered, delaying her as she whirled again and emptied the rest of her magazine in the direction of Ar-15.
Then there was a distinctive whump that chilled her core as Operator reloaded.
Her body flung itself away as Sopmod sent a 40mm grenade hurtling right where she had been standing, the blast still tossing Operator head over heels into the snow.
She recovered quickly, slamming her next mag home and raising her weapon, scanning the trees for the targets.
They were gone.
Scopes showed nothing either, meaning they were suppressing their signatures. They got away, but it also meant they weren't moving too quickly.
"Dammit," she cursed, "Hunter, I've found them. Hurry to my coordinates, bring everything you can spare. We need to smoke them out."
"Heading your way."